How to train for a half-marathon and keep your friends

It’s race season here in Utah. Every Saturday there are traffic detours to avoid the hordes of runners barreling down major city streets. Public spaces are plastered with ads for 5Ks and triathlons. Grocers can barely keep Gatorade on the shelves.

This year, I decided to join the racing hordes, to add some structure and routine to the chaos of summer. And now, two months into training. I’m struggling to not be the most obnoxious person in the world about it.

I’m preparing to run a half-marathon. DON’T STOP READING! I know you want to! And I get it. If I heard someone start a conversation with “I’m training for a half-marathon,” my eyes would glaze over, my mind would start playing assorted “Benny Hill” tracks on a loop, and I’d look for any excuse to exit the chat as soon as possible.

I’ve been on the receiving end of others’ monologues about something they are VERY into and I am not into AT ALL. “I have a 12-miler tomorrow,” they’ll say, or “My underwater woven basket is almost done,” or “my favorite nose flutist is coming to town,” and suddenly, seconds feel like hours, minutes like days. I’ve wondered what those who have described each aspect of their intense interest were hoping to get out of our conversation, positive I wasn’t going to be able to deliver whatever it was. I’ve said “interesting,” and “wow,” in the least interested voice possible when runners explain the benefit of Hokas over other shoes on the market, basket weavers describe the materials they use, or nose flute enthusiasts list their favorite melodies.

But now I’m the one detailing my 12-mile runs to friends and family and discussing the merits of a more cushioned shoe over an orthopedic insole. I can see their eyes glaze over, I know they’re hearing “Benny Hill” tracks. I can hear myself boring them while they politely smile. But as annoying as I know I’m being, I just can’t stop. When someone asks, “What’s new with you?” I only have the one thing that’s actually new with me — training for a half-marathon. I could talk about my family. I could talk about my job. I could talk about the new season of whatever Bravo show I’m watching. But the only things that escape my mouth are running-related, because lately the only things on my mind are running-related.

This must be how new vegans or recent Ivy league graduates feel. Except training for a half-marathon is far more common than giving up animal products or attending one of the nation’s most revered universities. As my peers and I teeter on the edge of middle-age, more and more of us are taking up weekend warrior distance running. I half-expect each of my classmates to show up to our 20-year reunion in sweat-wicking fabrics.

Perhaps we’re running in an effort to deafen the relentless drum beat of aging and a fresh, terrifying understanding of our mortality. Perhaps we’re running for the endorphin hit. Perhaps we’re doing it because athletic wear is so much more comfortable than real pants. Whatever the reason, I’m not special. And what I have to say about my new hobby isn’t special, either.

To add insult to the many run-induced injuries, a half-marathon is only half interesting. It fails to command the awe and reverence a full marathon does. “Just a half,” I find myself saying when kind souls ask for which specific race I’m training. Because 13 is a lot of miles, sure, but it’s not 26. The kind souls only ever look half-impressed. Bless them.

After explaining it’s just a half, I change the subject, because I’m trying my hardest to have a personality beyond replenishing electrolytes and tracking mileage. But I’m always secretly hoping they’ll ask follow up questions about my half-impressive proclamation so I can dive into the tricks I’ve learned to stay hydrated during those longer runs and the best stretches to prevent injury.

At this point in training I don’t know how to not be annoying. Do I staple my mouth shut to keep myself from boring my loved ones with my personal best mile times? Do I write a column about my dilemma in the Deseret News as a cry for help?

My best solution so far is to keep the bulk of my reporting to Strava — my fitness tracking app of choice — where I log my miles and receive kudos from my three connections, the only good use for social media I’ve found in a while.

But outside a niche fitness app, I guess all I can really do is hope that my friends and family can bear a bit of runnerloguing and not hear too much “Benny Hill,” and that I can read facial cues well enough to know when I’ve been talking about the different flavors of Gu energy for too long.

But if you, too, have decided to run this summer, and you find yourself wanting to monologue about training to a more receptive audience, you know where to find me — running with the hordes through a major city street this weekend. Or on Strava.